What was important
by Girafe13
Summary: Little highlights that lead Winters and Nixon closer until a certain evening. W/N OS


'What was that for?', asks Winters when Nixon kisses him for the first time.

Nix is drunk, so drunk he can't even recognize his left foot from his right, and he tries to walk, but he falls, twice, before leaning heavily against Winters, giving up, and then, when they arrive at the door of Lewis's room, he looks up, grab the front of the shirt of his best friend, and smack a quick, hard kiss on his mouth.

' 'Cause you walked me home', he slurs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He then takes a leap, crashes into the door, who opens loudly, and wanders to his bed, asleep before he even gets to lay his head on the pillow. His boots are still on as Winters blinks, reaching up for his lips with his right hand, touches them lightly, without even noticing, and then making his way to remove the boots and socks from Nixon's feet, shaking his head.

The next morning, Winters makes no comments as Nixon grumbles into his coffee about a stupid headache, and hands him the aspirin, instead, that Roe gave him a few days earlier, seeing that Nixon's drinking wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"_I guess it wasn't important"_, thinks Winters, and they leave for Holland.

* * *

When they arrive at Bastogne, Lewis begins to wonder if this war was really necessary. At first, he had done his job because he was a good soldier, and an important one, that is, the map-guy, hooray, praise the Lord. He never questioned his intentions : his country was in danger, and he oughta protect it. The battles went on, and he just hang in though, Winters at his side.

But the second day knee deep in the snow and temperatures going between freazing and _fucking_ freezing, Nixon cursed now not only Hitler, but also the Japs and the Canadians, and the Americans, and even the whole planet, because really, what the hell were they doing here? He hated everything, and his sarcastic mood got even worst. All those lives at stake… Was this war necessary? What _good_ can it possibly _do_?

The answer came at him in a stupid manner, at least, that's what Nix tells himself. He's walking around, because Roe said it was _necessary _for his blood to circulate well or some bullshit like that, and he walks over Winter's foxhole.

Who was shaving.

Lewis blinked a few times before he laughed, his real first laugh since he got here. Winters just looked up at him, making that face when he was annoyed with him, _only_ _him_, mouth curling up in a half smile, but somehow managing to frown.

'What is it this time', he sighed, trembling while the sharp knife scratched his chin.

'You, that's what it is' he simply answered, and looked down, trying to hide his laugher. He then got sereine, thinking about something.

'You are the good that this stupid thing does, that's _what_.'

* * *

'Dick?'

'Hmm?'

'Why do you still even take care of me?'

Winters frowns and gazes up at Nixon, leaving his report unfinished, his hands still hanging above the writing machine.

'What do you mean?'

Nixon had already left, shaking his head, his sign for '_never mind don't ask, it's not important'_. He had come to apologize for last night, a speech Winters knows now by heart. Winters is left alone with the haunting question.

Sure, Nixon and him were different, but as Winters slowly put his hands on the desk, he realize that, even with the badges and all the titles, Winters was really just a man, who had a friend, even a _best_ friend, Nixon, and he counted a lot to him.

He settles back in his chair, exhaling as he remembers the looks of concern, the conversations, the nudges and the jokes. He thinks about Currahee, about Sobel and his evil tricks, he thinks about Holland, Bastogne, Foy, the guns, the drinking problem, the helmet, the bullets, Winters thinks about it all, and the answer is very clear to him.

'I care about you because I need you', he answers to an empty room.

Somehow, it makes a lot of sense.

* * *

The second time it happens, Nixon is drunk, but at least he can walk straight. Well, kind of straight, but it doesn't matter, because it's not Bastogne anymore, it's not even winter, it's summer, and it's _Austria_, and the war is over. They actually have time, between two reports and stupid training, to play cards in the house they claimed theirs.

The beauty of the place is hard to sink into the spirit of Dick. For every three or mountain, all he sees is another man shot in the ground, another gun, another map, another torn helmet. They have quiet evenings, and warm suppers, and warm showers and actual _beds_. Winters felt awkward the first time he laid between the silk sheets of a rich mansion, Nixon's music in the room next to his fainted by the big walls. He felt out of place, and even considered sleeping on the sofa, but he finally fell asleep, his thoughts agitaded.

For now they are playing another game of cards, Winters can't exaclty remember the name. Nixon actually suceeded at making him drink, and he supsected the other man to fill up his glass everytime he wasn't looking, because it was impossible thta he had drink so little and yet feel a bit light-headed.

'What?' asks Richard as his friend stares at him, suddenly silent, night strangely cold and dark for this time of the year.

'I kissed you. I kissed you just before we got to Holland.', he answers, as if he can't even believe it himself. It's like as if he experiments a flashback of some sort, maybe it's because of the third bottle of whiskey, or maybe the cigarets, Dick isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything, right now.

'Yes, you actually did' he answers softly.

They look at each other, Nixon trying his best not to laugh or cry, he doesn't really know either, all he knows is that Winter sis looking at him with his blue and green eyes, he could never tell, and his heart starts beating very fast for no apparent reason. Maybe it's because of his hair, that is a bit messy for a change, or the look he's giving him, or maybe even his own stupidity that makes him open his mouth again.

'Why haven't we talked about this sooner, again?'

'Because you didn't brought it up, I thought… It wasn't important.'

'Damnit, Dick, of course it's important, you're… You are important.'

He knows he's on a slippery slide, and everything could crumble around his fingers, like sand on the beach, but he only sits there, heart beaiting fast, and mouth dry, and Dick is just looking at him, not even blinking.

'You are important too, you know' he finally answers, and he can feel he just said the good thing, the thing he wanted to say, that Nixon wanted to hear for so long, through their shared nightmare.

Winters feels his heart clench as a wierd sensation in his stomach, like a knot, takes place, and does not leave, like each time he looks too long at Nixon those past few months. He thought Nix had forgot about this, but apparently not. It was _so long ago_, Winters had put the memory into a box and locked it. Now, it was like the box just opened and a hurricane came floating around the two men, destroying good sense and rationnality. Nixon toss his bottle on the ground carelessly, and shifts his weight so he's half standing up, kness bend and body towards Dick, the table between them suddenly annoying Winters for no apparent reason. He shifts his weight too, so he's leaning close, the table bumping into his chest with a small noise, and Nix tugs him closer, and breathes hard throught the nose.

The cards fall from his hands as Nixon lips are on his, soft and lazy at the same time, Winters doesn't know well, he can't even tell if it's him that pushed away the table, or Nixon, and his friend is now leaning, because he's still sitting. Somehow, he manages to get up, Nixon pushing him to the nearest wall, biting, licking, still kissing every inch of his neck, jaw line, and mouth he can get to. Winters shivers, and closes his eyes, almost whimpering. He didn't realized he was controling himself around Lewis so much until his hands were working on Nixon's belt to make it disapear.

'Shit, Nix, why did you wait to tell me, I thought you had forgotten…' breathed out Winters, as the man found their way, clumsily, to his bedroom.

'You cursed and said my name in the same sentence, I think I'm going to faint' smiles Nixon, pressing a little kiss on Winters' left collarbone.

'I thought you were too drunk to actually mean something.'

'I'm never too drunk, you silly. Come on, I thought I was making things up in my head !'

'_Maybe_ if you weren't _too _drunk all the time you would have catched up earlier- ah !'

Nixon was catching up with him with his belt, not caring anymore about words, shutting up Dick with a fierce kiss before unzipping his friend's pants.

_This_ was now what good this stupid thing did after all, and _this_ was now all they cared about, and _this_ is what was important right now.

Somehow, it has always make sense.


End file.
